Even though he knows that no one would mind, and that no one could hear it over the rattling of the tracks and the occasional roaring of tunnel air and even the basic human noise that comes of a number of people squeezed in together, Kenma has always avoided texting in trains. There's something about it that makes him feel like it's eye-catching, even though he knows well enough that literally everyone else does it, and he stands out more by not - maybe it's the ever-present signs insisting on the use of manner mode, or maybe it's the glares everyone shoots the inevitable asshole who talks on his phone in spite of them, or maybe it's just the memory of how loud vibration sounds when it goes off during a test, or a movie, or when he's trying to go to sleep.
Anyway, it’s troublesome and it makes him worry, and as a general rule Kenma avoids both of those things - save, he supposes, Kuroo. It's been a non-issue up to this point because the only people who text him anyway are Kuroo and his mother and occasionally (always) Lev; it's rare for him to ride a train without Kuroo, his mother expects a slow response, and anyway it's better not to give Lev too much attention or he'll begin to raise his expectations. His other teammates know well enough that the fastest way to talk to him is in person, and they tend to keep their messages short and to the point and rarely expect them to turn into a conversation.
That's changed since he's started talking to Hinata. At first he thinks it's got nothing to do with him. That it's the speed and the volume and the energy and the tone of the texts. That something about Hinata can't be ignored. That he demands to be replied to.
Even though he’s the type of person who enjoys teasing his friends, Kuroo has a degree of emotional maturity that precludes picking at people’s legitimate sensitivities; he’ll smirk and he’ll tease but he’d never do anything to call attention to his friend in a way Kenma couldn’t stand. The difference, Kenma occasionally thinks with an eyeroll, between a pain and a bully, although he knows that’s a gross oversimplification, as well as probably unfair. At any rate, it’s probably because of that that his friend has traditionally been good about ignoring the buzz of a message coming from Kenma's bag, but lately the more that Kenma responds to the sound, fishes through his belongings and reads through the messages thoughtfully and sends replies promptly as if it's the most natural thing, the more he shifts away from embarrassment and awkwardness and toward the norm, Kuroo has readjusted as well. He’s taken to biting around a smile, tilting his gaze in a way Kenma knows he does specifically because he’s been told point-blank that it's obnoxious.
“That shorty from Karasuno has a lot to say for a Wednesday morning,” he drawls languidly one morning as Kenma’s phone begins vibrating almost immediately after he clicks the screen off from his last reply, before he can even manage to shove it back into his pocket. Kenma can hear his best friend’s grin even before he slips his gaze up impassively, shaking his hair back and out of his face.
“Shouyou’s talking about this standing race he and that first-year setter,” Kageyama-kun, he vaguely recalls, “have. Something about arriving in the gymnasium first.” He shrugs. Things like racing and competition seem like a lot of work to him, more work than he’d be interested in. He supposes, however, that Kageyama seems unexpectedly like that kind of type - even though at first glance he’d given off a kind of stoic, imperious aura, that hadn’t lasted past the first few interactions with the rest of Karasuno that Kenma’d observed. People like that, Kenma thinks, get too serious about things when other people attach weight to them, even things that probably don’t actually matter all that much. Kageyama is probably exactly the type to get caught up in someone like Hinata's pace.
“Ah, that genius, right? The one who serves it right to shorty.” Kuroo’s tone indicates a question, but his expression doesn’t change, settled stubbornly into a fond smile Kenma recognizes as one he makes when he figures he knows what’s really going on, but he’s not going to let on until you’re willing to tell him what’s up, because he’s such a kind person, really. “They’re racing, huh? What’s with that, is it some kind of weird training?” Kenma shrugs, turning up to fully meet his friend’s gaze.
“I don’t think it’s part of their menu or anything, and as far as I can tell there’s no benefit to winning. It’s just something they do.” With that, he slips his gaze back to his phone, finger dancing across the screen to compose his reply. “I guess Shouyou’s into it, though.”
Kuroo snorts. “I get the impression there isn’t much that doesn’t get that guy pumped up.”
Kenma knows by all accounts that he should sigh at that, really, because it’s all sort of pointless and silly, but somehow, inexplicably, he feels the corners of his mouth turning up ever-so slightly. “Even you can tell something like that, huh?” His friend laughs and shoves Kenma’s shoulder with his own, almost too gently, like you’d nudge a sleeping cat with your foot.
“What's with that 'even you,' huh? Some people don’t take your particular skillset to figure out, you know? I feel like anyone could tell that. When we introduce him to Lev, Lev’ll be able to tell that.” Kuroo yawns and rolls his shoulders back, settling further into his seat. “Speaking of our newest member, I could swear I heard him complaining about how unresponsive you are to texts - something you’re working on?” Kenma leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees, putting subtle distance between the two of them, feeling defensive.
“You know that type of guy. If you give him an inch he’ll take a mile. You let him play one round of a game, and next thing you know he’s saving over your files and telling you he’s a natural at it.” For example. Hypothetically. “Better not to let him think I'll respond too quickly." Or at all.
"You barely respond to me." Kenma shifts his shoulders, turning slightly to meet his best friend's teasing, expression neutral.
"Did you have something you needed right now?" This time Kuroo jostles his knee against Kenma's, less gentle than before.
"That's not the point and you know it." The borders of his sigh hint quietly at the laugh he's swallowed down. Kenma doesn’t have a reply, and Kuroo doesn’t particularly need one; they're comfortably quiet until almost the end of their ride to school. As always, ultimately it's Kuroo who breaks the silence, intoning, "Looking forward to their trip, then?" as Kenma's phone lights up again with another message. Kenma shrugs, staring at his still-uncomposed reply.
"I think he's excited? I mean, even when one of us brings it up, he mostly just talks about volleyball and the Skytree, to be honest..." His phone vibrates again in his hand, as if in agreement. Yeah, Hinata seems to be echoing from up in Miyagi prefecture. Tokyo Skytree is awesome, probably!!
"Not the shorty, Kenma." His friend's tone indicates that he thinks that for such a smart guy, Kenma can be surprisingly dense. The scenery outside melts into the neighborhood around Nekoma High, warning that their stop is next; they both stand automatically, without conferring, and Kuroo reaches up and grabs Kenma's bag from the rack above their heads, passes it quietly to him with a slight grin. Morning practice is early and they've missed the rush, so they're able to move to the train door without pushing. It opens, and Kenma feels the cool morning air on his face as Kuroo steps onto the platform, turning to face him. Kuro's not done with his thought, Kenma realizes suddenly, looking at the slant to his friend's expression, and wonders what more there is to say. "It's volleyball and it's that guy. Of course he's excited. I'm talking about you."
The sun is gentle on his face, surprising for summer in Tokyo. Kenma still feels warm at the question, which takes him off-guard in a way he isn’t used to. Is he excited? It seems impossible - he's rarely excited, which is why it's so puzzling to him that he can feel a faint heat spreading across his cheeks and the back of his neck at the question. He tries to conjure up the memory of what the most recent game release announcement he’d been excited about felt like, tries to root that feeling in this, but it's all wrong - nothing about the nervous, effervescent feeling of hearing new information about an upcoming release is echoed in the way talking about Karasuno coming to training camp settles deep into his belly, makes him smile at weird times.
Kuroo blinks blankly at him, apparently surprised to have taken him by surprise, and they stare at each other like idiots for a few seconds before he laughs out loud, jostling his shoulder affectionately against his friend’s.
“It’s fine if you haven’t figured it out yet, Kenma.”
Kenma bristles at the implication that he’s behind Kuroo on something, sliding smoothly away from the contact in a way that doesn’t outright reject it. “Would you cut that out? We’re going to be late if you keep messing around like that.”
“What, are you feeling fired up about practice this morning? That shorty get you all pumped?” Kuroo anticipates Kenma’s dodge and moves fluidly in time with it, reaching up to tousle his friend’s hair.
“Not particularly.” Kenma knows Kuroo well enough in turn to anticipate that, and lightly slaps his hand away.
“You want to race?”
“Stop being stupid.”
Kenma hopes that Kuroo will think the slight flush still painting his cheeks is from horsing around. His phone buzzes in his pocket again, and as they turn to begin their walk to practice, Kenma pulls it out to finally humor Hinata with a reply. He’s surprised to catch himself smiling before he even opens the message, a moment of horrible self-realization which instantly sinks his stomach with how stupid he feels about it. Still, the moment passes as quickly as it arrived, and he sends off a reply as he walks, listening to Kuro humming a popular video game jingle from a few paces ahead.
VER A; REGULAR NAMES
Anyway, it’s troublesome and it makes him worry, and as a general rule Kenma avoids both of those things - save, he supposes, Kuroo. It's been a non-issue up to this point because the only people who text him anyway are Kuroo and his mother and occasionally (always) Lev; it's rare for him to ride a train without Kuroo, his mother expects a slow response, and anyway it's better not to give Lev too much attention or he'll begin to raise his expectations. His other teammates know well enough that the fastest way to talk to him is in person, and they tend to keep their messages short and to the point and rarely expect them to turn into a conversation.
That's changed since he's started talking to Hinata. At first he thinks it's got nothing to do with him. That it's the speed and the volume and the energy and the tone of the texts. That something about Hinata can't be ignored. That he demands to be replied to.
Even though he’s the type of person who enjoys teasing his friends, Kuroo has a degree of emotional maturity that precludes picking at people’s legitimate sensitivities; he’ll smirk and he’ll tease but he’d never do anything to call attention to his friend in a way Kenma couldn’t stand. The difference, Kenma occasionally thinks with an eyeroll, between a pain and a bully, although he knows that’s a gross oversimplification, as well as probably unfair. At any rate, it’s probably because of that that his friend has traditionally been good about ignoring the buzz of a message coming from Kenma's bag, but lately the more that Kenma responds to the sound, fishes through his belongings and reads through the messages thoughtfully and sends replies promptly as if it's the most natural thing, the more he shifts away from embarrassment and awkwardness and toward the norm, Kuroo has readjusted as well. He’s taken to biting around a smile, tilting his gaze in a way Kenma knows he does specifically because he’s been told point-blank that it's obnoxious.
“That shorty from Karasuno has a lot to say for a Wednesday morning,” he drawls languidly one morning as Kenma’s phone begins vibrating almost immediately after he clicks the screen off from his last reply, before he can even manage to shove it back into his pocket. Kenma can hear his best friend’s grin even before he slips his gaze up impassively, shaking his hair back and out of his face.
“Shouyou’s talking about this standing race he and that first-year setter,” Kageyama-kun, he vaguely recalls, “have. Something about arriving in the gymnasium first.” He shrugs. Things like racing and competition seem like a lot of work to him, more work than he’d be interested in. He supposes, however, that Kageyama seems unexpectedly like that kind of type - even though at first glance he’d given off a kind of stoic, imperious aura, that hadn’t lasted past the first few interactions with the rest of Karasuno that Kenma’d observed. People like that, Kenma thinks, get too serious about things when other people attach weight to them, even things that probably don’t actually matter all that much. Kageyama is probably exactly the type to get caught up in someone like Hinata's pace.
“Ah, that genius, right? The one who serves it right to shorty.” Kuroo’s tone indicates a question, but his expression doesn’t change, settled stubbornly into a fond smile Kenma recognizes as one he makes when he figures he knows what’s really going on, but he’s not going to let on until you’re willing to tell him what’s up, because he’s such a kind person, really. “They’re racing, huh? What’s with that, is it some kind of weird training?” Kenma shrugs, turning up to fully meet his friend’s gaze.
“I don’t think it’s part of their menu or anything, and as far as I can tell there’s no benefit to winning. It’s just something they do.” With that, he slips his gaze back to his phone, finger dancing across the screen to compose his reply. “I guess Shouyou’s into it, though.”
Kuroo snorts. “I get the impression there isn’t much that doesn’t get that guy pumped up.”
Kenma knows by all accounts that he should sigh at that, really, because it’s all sort of pointless and silly, but somehow, inexplicably, he feels the corners of his mouth turning up ever-so slightly. “Even you can tell something like that, huh?” His friend laughs and shoves Kenma’s shoulder with his own, almost too gently, like you’d nudge a sleeping cat with your foot.
“What's with that 'even you,' huh? Some people don’t take your particular skillset to figure out, you know? I feel like anyone could tell that. When we introduce him to Lev, Lev’ll be able to tell that.” Kuroo yawns and rolls his shoulders back, settling further into his seat. “Speaking of our newest member, I could swear I heard him complaining about how unresponsive you are to texts - something you’re working on?” Kenma leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees, putting subtle distance between the two of them, feeling defensive.
“You know that type of guy. If you give him an inch he’ll take a mile. You let him play one round of a game, and next thing you know he’s saving over your files and telling you he’s a natural at it.” For example. Hypothetically. “Better not to let him think I'll respond too quickly." Or at all.
"You barely respond to me." Kenma shifts his shoulders, turning slightly to meet his best friend's teasing, expression neutral.
"Did you have something you needed right now?" This time Kuroo jostles his knee against Kenma's, less gentle than before.
"That's not the point and you know it." The borders of his sigh hint quietly at the laugh he's swallowed down. Kenma doesn’t have a reply, and Kuroo doesn’t particularly need one; they're comfortably quiet until almost the end of their ride to school. As always, ultimately it's Kuroo who breaks the silence, intoning, "Looking forward to their trip, then?" as Kenma's phone lights up again with another message. Kenma shrugs, staring at his still-uncomposed reply.
"I think he's excited? I mean, even when one of us brings it up, he mostly just talks about volleyball and the Skytree, to be honest..." His phone vibrates again in his hand, as if in agreement. Yeah, Hinata seems to be echoing from up in Miyagi prefecture. Tokyo Skytree is awesome, probably!!
"Not the shorty, Kenma." His friend's tone indicates that he thinks that for such a smart guy, Kenma can be surprisingly dense. The scenery outside melts into the neighborhood around Nekoma High, warning that their stop is next; they both stand automatically, without conferring, and Kuroo reaches up and grabs Kenma's bag from the rack above their heads, passes it quietly to him with a slight grin. Morning practice is early and they've missed the rush, so they're able to move to the train door without pushing. It opens, and Kenma feels the cool morning air on his face as Kuroo steps onto the platform, turning to face him. Kuro's not done with his thought, Kenma realizes suddenly, looking at the slant to his friend's expression, and wonders what more there is to say. "It's volleyball and it's that guy. Of course he's excited. I'm talking about you."
The sun is gentle on his face, surprising for summer in Tokyo. Kenma still feels warm at the question, which takes him off-guard in a way he isn’t used to. Is he excited? It seems impossible - he's rarely excited, which is why it's so puzzling to him that he can feel a faint heat spreading across his cheeks and the back of his neck at the question. He tries to conjure up the memory of what the most recent game release announcement he’d been excited about felt like, tries to root that feeling in this, but it's all wrong - nothing about the nervous, effervescent feeling of hearing new information about an upcoming release is echoed in the way talking about Karasuno coming to training camp settles deep into his belly, makes him smile at weird times.
Kuroo blinks blankly at him, apparently surprised to have taken him by surprise, and they stare at each other like idiots for a few seconds before he laughs out loud, jostling his shoulder affectionately against his friend’s.
“It’s fine if you haven’t figured it out yet, Kenma.”
Kenma bristles at the implication that he’s behind Kuroo on something, sliding smoothly away from the contact in a way that doesn’t outright reject it. “Would you cut that out? We’re going to be late if you keep messing around like that.”
“What, are you feeling fired up about practice this morning? That shorty get you all pumped?” Kuroo anticipates Kenma’s dodge and moves fluidly in time with it, reaching up to tousle his friend’s hair.
“Not particularly.” Kenma knows Kuroo well enough in turn to anticipate that, and lightly slaps his hand away.
“You want to race?”
“Stop being stupid.”
Kenma hopes that Kuroo will think the slight flush still painting his cheeks is from horsing around. His phone buzzes in his pocket again, and as they turn to begin their walk to practice, Kenma pulls it out to finally humor Hinata with a reply. He’s surprised to catch himself smiling before he even opens the message, a moment of horrible self-realization which instantly sinks his stomach with how stupid he feels about it. Still, the moment passes as quickly as it arrived, and he sends off a reply as he walks, listening to Kuro humming a popular video game jingle from a few paces ahead.